No More Deal
by detectivejigsaw
Summary: After Weirdmageddon ends, Ford finds he has to clear the air with Stan about something else. Has a little bit of mush, but hopefully not excessive. Just the Pines twins classic being a pair of cinnamon rolls, if I'm using the phrase correctly, and actually talking to each other for once.


It had been a few days since Weirdmageddon.

Days which the Mystery Shack crew had mostly spent trying to get Stanley Pines back to himself, by going over every possible thing that could be used to reclaim his memories-listening to old music, going around town to see everyone he'd ever talked to,* time and time again poring through Mabel's scrapbook. His twin Stanford worked the hardest at it, but all of the little group put their blood, sweat, tears and other fluids*2 into helping him.

For the most part, at least one of them was with Stan at all times,*3 as if leaving him alone would make him forget everything again. But every once in a while he would beg for a little privacy in his room, which was granted for an hour or so until he was ready for the next part of his recovery program.

* * *

He had just been finishing up his hour of personal space when Ford came up to ask if he was ready to eat, and knocked once before opening the door without waiting for a response. Only to find himself staring in bewilderment at the scene before him.

A giant suitcase lay open on the bed, haphazardly overflowing with clothes, weapons, gold chains and a few back issues of _Fully Clothed Women_.*4 The rest of the room looked like it had been caught in the middle of a tiny tornado, enough that for a moment Ford wondered if that was what had happened; in this town, he wouldn't be surprised.

Stanley was in the middle of the mess,*5 sorting through more things to toss into the suitcase; his head jerked up guiltily when he saw Ford in the doorway.

"...What are you doing?" Ford spluttered.

As soon as he asked he knew he'd walked right into Stanley's reply, which was, in his Captain Obvious voice, "Packing."

He pursed his lips in annoyance. "Where exactly are you going?"

Stan shrugged. "H_ll if I know." He threaded his fingers through a set of brass knuckles and flexed once, before shoving them into an already-bulging pocket on his luggage.

Finally, feeling like one of the forest's question quails, Ford began to ask, "_Why_ are you-?"

Stan became very interested in the Hawaiian shirt now clenched in his hands. "That was the de-" his tongue changed words quickly- "the agreement. And summer's almost over."

Ford just gaped at him in disbelief.

He'd thought things were okay between them now.

They'd spent hours upon hours talking and watching home movies together, apologizing multiple times for all their past mistakes.*6 And yet Stanley still thought-

He didn't seem upset, though. _Resigned_, yes, as he balled the shirt and tossed it into the suitcase, but without the anger and resentment he'd been nursing in the weeks before Bill Cipher was unleashed on their town. So maybe he believed Ford had forgiven him, but still wanted him out of the house. He wasn't sure if that was a better or worse train of thought.

Stanley gave him a small, confused look, and Ford realized he'd been standing in the doorway with his jaw flapping for at least a minute. Quickly he closed it again, and began wracking his brains for some way to purge his brother of this delusion he was still under, in a way that would-hopefully-leave no room for doubt in his mind.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, he decided to talk about this on his brother's level.

* * *

"Stanley," he said softly, taking a small step into the room, "that agreement has been null and void for ages now."

For a moment, Stanley looked shocked. Then his expression turned swiftly belligerent.

"I didn't do-"

Realizing his mistake, Ford lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "No no no, you didn't do anything! It was me."

He received a pair of wide, confused eyes and a bewildered "Wha-?" by way of response, and decided to continue with the explanation.

"If I recall correctly, you gave the condition that in return I would stay away from the children, and I have really...not done that. I have instead spent a great deal of time with them, and therefore completely disregarded our original agreement."*7

Stan was still looking somewhere between confused and wary, probably thinking that what he was saying seemed too good to be true, since that was usually how his life worked. Ford decided to make things clearer to him.

"My point is, our deal-" even though he didn't like the word any better than his twin did, he stubbornly pushed it out between his teeth- "is broken. This house is still your Mystery Shack, if you want it to be." _If he didn't want to accept Ford's offer that he was waiting to make until after the twins' birthday._ "Though I would like to somehow have my name back, if that's all the same to you," he added quickly.

Now it was Stan's turn to flap his jaw. Eventually he managed to stammer out, "It...might be difficult, since I, y'know, faked my death thirty years ago."

"We can fix that," Ford said smoothly. Then, with a touch of doubt, "I hope."

Stanley just stared at him like he'd just sprouted another pair of fingers or something.

Ford continued. "Besides, while I said I wanted my house back, I never said anything about your having to _leave_." He gave Stanley a cheeky smile and snorted. "What kind of con man are you if you're not gonna ferret out possible loopholes like that, in a _verbal contract_, no less?"

Stan's eyes had become very shiny as his brother's words sank in, and now he began chewing on his lower lip in quick rapid jerks, before spinning around to face the wall.

Seeing the signs for what they were, Ford approached, reaching out a little. "Stanley-"

"I got allergies, okay?!" Stan growled, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"You've never had allergies in your life." Ford's tone was lightly scolding.

"You can develop them, I read that somewhere! Don't question me-"

Ford's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Stanley. It's okay."

* * *

Despite his reassurance, his brother visibly wrestled with himself for a few more seconds before the dam burst.

All was quiet except for the occasional sniff; Stan just stood there, shoulders shaking, hand covering his face, still trying to maintain whatever dignity was available to him but at the same time leaning into his brother's touch.

After a few minutes Ford took this expression of vulnerability as permission to turn Stanley and tug him forward until his forehead was pressed against his shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly and waiting out the minor flood.

It took a little longer before Stan got himself under control, sniffing a few more times before lifting his glasses so he could nuzzle his face into Ford's shoulder.

Ford's nose wrinkled in a disgusted grimace. "Ugh, don't wipe your tears on my sweater!"

His twin smirked as he pulled back a little and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "Hey, I'm just trying to give you incentive to wash this stupid thing."

Ford glared at him, but not with any real heat behind it. "You're disgusting."

"Hey, I'm not the one who sleeps in his clothes and never wants to do his laundry." Stan shoved him lightly in the shoulder.

Ford smacked his hand away.

The ensuing scuffle was on far more playful terms than all their previous fights in the last forty years.

It included Stan messing up Ford's hair with some vigorous noogying, and Ford proving that even after all this time he still remembered where Stan was most ticklish.

And together they went downstairs when Mabel called for them, demanding to know what was taking so long, still playfully shoving each other and giggling, feeling decades younger.

* * *

*And/or scammed.

*2 Don't think about it too hard, it's not as bad as it sounds.

*3 Unless he was in the bathroom or something, because ewww.

*4 Which Ford _really_ hoped his brother hadn't been reading around the kids.

*5 Big shock there.

*6 It would have been more embarrassing for both of them if it hadn't been so crucial.

*7 Especially considering he'd taken Dipper to an alien crash site that turned out to still be active and asked him to spend the rest of his teenagerhood here chasing the supernatural, but now hardly seemed like the time to bring that up.


End file.
